His Dead Wife's Twin

Chapter 4

Noah shifts, stepping out onto the porch, his silhouette outlined against the dim glow spilling from inside. His expression is hard to define, some mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Ray," he says, uncertain. "What are you saying to me right now?"

I laugh, the sound brittle and strange, like it belongs to someone else. Maybe I'm losing it. Maybe this is pure madness, showing up like this, saying these words on the eve of his wedding.

"I know you love Elena," I say, the words barely holding together. "Who doesn't? And I know she loves you. I swear I'm not trying to come between that."

His jaw tightens, hands pushing into his pockets as he exhales sharply. "Ray, you can't-" He hesitates, like he's searching for the right words, then sighs. "You can't drop this on me now. I'm getting married tomorrow."

"I know." My throat burns as I swallow, forcing the next words out before they slip away. "This isn't meant to stop anything. I just needed to say it. You needed to know." I breathe in deep, still shaking, but there's no turning back. "I... I love you. I have loved you very much."

His lips part, but no words come. The quiet between us stretches, thick with the weight of what I've just unleashed.

"Ray..." He whispers, staring at me like he's been punched.

I wipe at my face, forcing something close to a smile. "Tell me," I murmur. "I know I'm too late. I didn't say it soon enough. But... what if I had? What if I hadn't hidden it for so long? What would your answer be?"

His gaze locks onto mine, something heavy and sorrowful settling in his eyes. "I don't know," he says finally.

I nod, my breath hitching, my face crumbling into a sob. "Yeah, you can say it, Noah. I already know, but you have to say it."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he wants to resist, like he wants to spare me, but there's no sparing me now. "Ray, this isn't-"

"Just this once," I whisper, lips trembling. "I won't ask you to say it again." I pull in a shaky breath, bracing for the blow.

He studies me for a long moment, and I see it, the split second where he makes up his mind.

"I love Elena," he says, quiet but firm. "I have loved her all my life. She is the one."

I'm not prepared. God, I think I am, convince myself I've braced for impact, but the pain is instant, staggering. It hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of me. I nod, try to swallow it down, try to breathe through it, but the tears come fast, violent. I break apart, right there in front of him.

He never loved me. Never thought of me as anything more. I've been the closest person to him for years, but I'm still the farthest from his heart.

"No, no, Ray, please don't cry." His hands twitch like he wants to reach for me, like he wants to pull me into a hug. But he hesitates. Something has shifted. We're not just best friends anymore. And he knows it.

I can't stop. I sob, head bowed, shoulders shaking, the kind of crying that comes from somewhere deep and raw. I cry like a child who's lost their mother, who'll never know warmth again, who suddenly has no home.

I cry so hard I'm shocked I haven't collapsed, haven't just passed out right there on the porch. If I had died, I think maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. That's how bad it is. How deep the wound cuts.

Somehow, I walk away-on my own two feet, shaking, drenched, broken. I beg Noah not to tell Elena. Then I just keep walking. For hours. Maybe all night.

By morning, I'm a ghost. My eyes are swollen, my throat raw, my body heavy with grief, but I'm up. I smile. I hold her bouquet. I zip her into her wedding dress.

And it's like it never happened.